


I get to love you (the best thing I'll ever do)

by kangelique



Series: The Captain Swan Playlist [8]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Attempt at Humor, Blankets, Captain Hook in an adorable panic, Cute, Did i mention she's pregnant.., Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 17 "Awake", Episode 17 "Best Laid Plans", Episode 21 "Snow Drifits", Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy, Funny, Gen, Gentle Kissing, Getting Older, Heartfelt Conversations, Henry being a teenager, I love you's, Inspired by Elvis Presley songs, Killian Jones being a good husband, Magic and bathrooms, Married Life, Older but still handsome, Or perhaps they were simply in love, POV Captain Hook | Killian Jones, POV Emma, Pregnant Emma Swan, Radio time, Season 3, Singing, Slow Dancing, Song: Love Song (The Cure), Survivors, Teasing, The one where Emma is pregnant and seeking affection, The one where Emma loves pizza, Third Trimester, Trust, Used to be's, kisses and warmth and familiarity and all that good stuff, little bit sad, loveable, mention of Neal but I still dislike Neal immensely, midnight favors, playful, reflections, season 4, season 6, season 7 deleted scenes, serenading because it's Killian, sort of making up, time will tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangelique/pseuds/kangelique
Summary: Ever wonder who in Captain Swan...Hogs the blanket?Worries about what they will look like when they're older?Eats the others uneaten pizza crusts?Sings along to the radio?Shops for groceries?Kills the spiders?Is more likely to cry over a sad book or movie?Sometimes it's Emma, sometimes it's Killian, but for sure these opts questions will be answered here.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: The Captain Swan Playlist [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327670
Comments: 22
Kudos: 54





	1. "Pretend Im not here, okay?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who sings along to the radio?"

**Chapter 1: "Pretend I'm not here, okay?"**

The first time Emma heard him, she’d been in a crappy mood. Crappy because she was late for work, had forgotten her keys, and dropped her coffee on the passenger seat. Plus it was Monday and Monday mornings? Even worse. She’d stomped back to the porch only to freeze at the threshold when his humming caught her attention. A soft humming, a sweet humming. 

It wasn’t new, per se, because he’d hummed under his breath before when they were washing the dishes or clearing the table. But somehow this was different, somehow it seemed like she was trespassing into his privacy even though they lived, and fucked, and went on magical time travel adventures together. He thought he was alone, between four walls, unaware of her listening. That’s why she only allowed herself to enjoy the sound for a moment, and then quietly closed the door behind her. 

(Her monday didn’t suck so much after that)

The second time Emma heard him, it was to prove her theory correct: Did he begin singing the second she was out of the house? For whatever reason yes. After kissing his cheek goodbye and accepting the squeeze on her arm, Henry was the lucky one. He got to hear Killian bellow out lyrics, watch his expression twist with pain or morph with joy according to the song, be a witnesss to the beat subtley swaying his hips as he went about preparing them breakfast. She’d quickly put a finger to her lips when Henry caught her looking one time, and shook her head no. She wanted to keep looking from the outside in a little longer. 

So she kept pretending to leave, she kept tiptoeing through the hall to view Killian turning up the radio at full volume -a late wedding gift from her mom, which she’d behavedly weirdly about at first because it’d been bought from Gold’s shop. It wasn’t that far-fetched an idea to think it would spin haunted tunes, right?-she kept resting her head against the wall and crossing her arms against the memories plaguing her like an old ghost while she stood there. 

Memories of foster homes reeking with silence, kids holding their breath, the never-ending uncertainty pressing into the good as you waited to be taken away, expected it even. The realization you weren’t really out of the foster system just because some couple decided to give you a chance, the hesitation when they asked her what music she liked and what music she wanted to play. At the end of the day the truth was she wasn’t staying long, so why bother?

Now Emma would bother because his hesitation wasn’t warranted. Unlike her past foster parents, she planned on staying for a long, long, long time. In case the ring on her left hand didn’t already convince him. 

“Hey.” 

Killian stopped singing, whirling around to face her with wide eyes. Red rose to his cheeks, and Emma bit down on her smile as hard as possible. One would think after years of holding back what she wanted to say this would be a piece of cake, but her traitor smile only widened behind her knuckles. 

“Mind if I join you?”

He glanced at the spatula he was holding, and chuckled nervously when he met her raised eyebrow. She immediately yieled to the hooked arm that slipped around her waist and tugged her forward when he finally closed the distance between them, briefly closing her eyes as his lips captured hers in greeting. 

“Not at all love.” He pulled back with a slight grimace as his gaze fell to the floor and his index finger -his tell tale finger, his I-am-completely-embarrased- finger-disappeared behind his ear to scratch profusely. “You’re early.”

Emma wanted to tell him the embarrassment he was feeling was unneccesary because he was a good singer, because she’d been sneaking back into the house for weeks to hear him sing, because she liked how his voice filled their blue house. How it travelled to every room tarnished by their Dark One days and turned it into _their_ days. Why would she ever laugh at that?

“Yeah I am, wanna tell me who you were listening to?”

Killian opened his mouth, most likely to deny something she already knew, when he took note of the lingering knowing in her voice and double checked her smile. A slow smirk creeped onto the side of his mouth and he huffed, but Emma just waited with crossed arms for him to cave. 

Elvis,” he said simply. 

“Presley?”

“I suppose so.” He arched a shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve only recently begun to go through his records.”

Killian Jones was an old soul -just last week he had been singing along to Aerosmith and The Beatles- sticking to his traditional way of speaking from the Enchanted Forest, refusing to do anything but observe Storybrooke’s fashions, preferring the book he could hold in his hands rather than the Ebooks on Kindle. She should have guessed that when he finally took interest in the music from their world it would be on the music dating back years before she was born. There was also the pesky little fact that Elvis was known as the king of rock and roll, and as her pirate husband stood in front of her decked out in a black leather jacket, black leather pants, and an equally black shirt with freshly applied kohl under his eyes, Emma couldn’t help but get a certain rock and roll vibe. 

“I can see why you like him,” she whispered, snaking her arms around his neck as she stepped closer, pulling herself against him until they were chest to chest. 

“Really? Would you care to elaborate, Swan?”

“Nope.” She grinned. “What’s your favorite song?”

“You’ll Never Walk Alone, perhaps, or If I Can Dream.”

Emma nudged his nose, silently communicating they were good choices. “Mine’s Blue Christmas,” she mumbled and pushed off on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. “Pretend I’m not here, okay?”

She had every intention of acting invisible when she turned away from his confused stare to plug the coffemaker in, as she walked behind him with extra silent footsteps and made sure not to create any loud clatters. 

Minutes later his hand and hook were still encircled in the embrace she’d abandoned, so Emma waved her hand and the radio snapped back to life, and with it he did too, finally getting the hint as she cracked the eggs into a bowl and he resumed flipping the pancakes. 

Every now and then their eyes would meet and the smile he gave her told her he understood what she was doing. He didn’t mind her presence, he actually welcomed it. Long silences like this used to make her uncomfortable, almost desperate for something to crack the intimate bubble, but she was _part_ of this bubble now, she belonged to this bubble, shared making breakfast for dinner with him. 

The fact was further proven true when he started humming softly under his breath, drawing her into this private little corner of his self with his voice. She half expected him to start singing Blue Christmas at some point because he was Killian and he would sing Blue Christmas for her, but he didn’t. He sang something better. 

_“The people ask me how,_

  
_How I’ve lived ti’ll now, I tell them I don’t know,_

  
_I guess they understand how lonely life has been,_

  
_But life began, the day you took my hand.”_

Emma took his hand, interlacing their fingers together. 

_“And I love you so…”_

Their gazes locked, and she smiled. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got away from me; it wasn't supposed to be this long. The next ones will be smaller -maybe. (No promises)


	2. "Whatever your hearts desire, love."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who eats the others uneaten pizza crusts?"

**Chapter 2: "Whatever your hearts desire, love."**

  
The credits rolled and Henry jumped to his feet. Killian looked away from the list of charlatans streaming down the TV when the corner of his eye caught Emma scooting herself toward the open pizza box laying in front of him like a box of temptation. 

Whilst he’d been waiting for his shift at the sheriff station to end, Emma had texted him ** _Pizza or chinese?_ ** to which he’d responded **_Whatever your hearts desire, love_** and then thought better of it because of the screenshots Emma had sent him earlier in the day in regards to Tony’s pizzeria reviews. Any husband worth his vows could spot the clue a mile away. 

The man in question, Tony, had had his establishment bursting with customers demanding the exact cheesy dish Killian was in pursuit for. Why the residents of Storybrooke had suddenly sparked a hunger for the dish, Killian had no idea, but he deemed it to the coming storm evident in the sky. Perhaps they too were planning a family movie night tonight.

Regardless, salt had been brewing in the air; flash of lightning here and there; the water at the harbor sloshing in the distance with a warning to get home soon, and he’d made sure to listen by quickening his pace and reaching the front porch steps before the first raindrop descended. 

Now the thunderstorm had subsided and left a light rainfall in its wake; gentle drops pelted the glass, trails of the previously heavy moisture on the panes displaying the blurry street beyond their windows. 

Emma shifted on her criss-crossed legs with a grimace, and Killian placed his hook on her knee to halt any further strain. Already she was out of breath before she’d reached for the slice so he scooped it up for her. She gave him a grateful little smile in return, eyes falling closed as she ripped the peperoni off with her teeth and moaned in pleasure. He winced - _bloody hell_ \- the sound not doing the bulge in his pants any favors. 

“You’re not gonna eat that?”

“Well it’s simply the crust, love.” He motioned to the paper plate holding said thing with his hook. “It contains no flavor.”

Emma gawked. “You did not just say that.”

“I did...no, I didn’t.” Killian shook his head quickly when she made an indignant noise, and Henry’s low whistle only prompted his eyebrows higher. He blinked from Henry to Emma, sincerely wishing for some clue as to where he’d gone wrong, finally landing on Henry for answers. “Lad, is there something I should know?”

“Mom loves the crust, it’s kind of her obssesion right now.” Killian couldn’t help but scoff because crust? His Swan loved the crust? It was preposterous. Yet again also true, if the mountain of crusts Emma had collected on her plate throughout the film was any indication. 

Henry’s phone beeped with a new message (from his Lady Violet no doubt) and he turned his full attention to it, fingers instantly flying across the keyboard. “I know, I kinda agree with you. It’s just bread after all the other stuff is gone.” 

“Really good bread!”

Killian's face bloomed with a smile as Emma took an exaggerated bite of her slice and accidentally smeared her chin with tomato sauce in the process. He leaned forward to gently wipe away the sauce with the pad of his thumb, but rather than pulling back he continued to rub his thumb on the slight dent in her chin as though it fit perfectly, as though it were the missing piece of the puzzle - _his_ puzzle. 

“Indeed,” he replied with a wink and used such perfection to incline her face toward him. Both their eyes fell closed as he pressed his lips to her forehead. Henry caught them, of course, grinning at each other like fools, and wrinkled his nose but Killian could truly care less.

Because of week thirty-one. The third trimester according to Dr. Whale. They were nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. 

“It is good bread.”

“I’ll finish another right away,” Killian said softly.

“Seriously that’s just rude.”

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Emma bit her lip, failing to smother her smile. She grabbed another slice to push it into his good hand between their chests. “Eat this one and you can make it up to me. It looks thick.”

“Uh we ordered them all thick,” Henry said. 

“I’m pregnant, leave me alone,” she grumbled. 

Killian’s gaze drifted to his Swan’s belly, exposed as it was by the tank top -an odd name, was it not?-whose black hem had curled around her waist, revealing the faded pink stretch marks rising and disappearing into the grey joggers for his perusal. She shifted on the floor, grunting as she layed down on her side and took another bite off the crust before her cheek found purchase on his lap. He, on the other hand, moved to rest his hook on her back, losing his fingers in her hair as he sifted through her golden locks impossibly slow, hopefully soothing. 

“As you wish.”

My was he was on the edge of his seat to finally meet their little love. A little love with a penchant for pizza, or maybe bread. Killian wasn’t so sure but leaned onto the latter. And it was all perfectly normal, Whale had assured them from the beginning, cravings he had called it when Killian had worried it was due to stress or worse. 

No worse here though. Only good. 

“Ooh!” Emma craned her neck to disarm him with her puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. “Can I have your pepperoni?”

“Of bloody course not. They’re easily the best part in this entire dish.”

“Pizza,” she corrected. 

“Hook’s right.”

“Traitor,” Emma shot Henry’s direction. He shrugged and trained his eyes on his phone again. Shortly after, Killian finished eating the pizza and jumbled his knee, careful not to jostle her head too much. He waited for her eyes to meet his before bowing his head, an eyebrow ticking up at her giggle. 

“Milady, may I formally present to you…” He paused for emphasis, deepening his voice as if he were the herald announcing their names at the ball rather than the pirate displaying the crust on his palm. “ _The crust_.”

“Thanks, babe,” she whispered, green eyes wide with warmth, and arched her head up to capture his lips. 

"You guys are gross," Henry groaned.

Perhaps. 

Or perhaps they were simply in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta admit, writing in his point of view is fun. And too be honest, I always imagined it was Emma -pregnant or not-who ate the crusts because Killian doesn't seem like the type of person to do so. Maybe that's just me though.


	3. "If it makes you feel any better, grey's my favorite color."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who worries about what they will look like when they're older?"

**Chapter 3: "If it makes you feel any better, grey's my favorite color."**

Emma leaned against the doorway and rested her head on the wood to wait for his muttering to stop.

She crossed her arms with a heavy sigh. Ten minutes and counting -a new record, and also a bit worrisome. Not to mention they both had a life beyond this bathroom. Shifts at the sheriff station and breakfast being the most important meal of the day -funny because it was Killian’s words, not hers-and so what if she didn’t agree, Emma damn well wanted some breakfast now. 

What was it he liked to say? Oh right. Tick tock. 

_Here we go..._

“Uh am I interrupting something?”

“You see this, Swan.” Killian craned his head to the right, angling his chin higher, and brought his face closer to the glass with gritted teeth. He squinted as he ran his finger along his jawline and followed it to the thin scruff coating his neck. “There!” His eyebrows jumped to his forehead, eyes wide when he finally caught the fleck of grey she’d been aware of for weeks. “Are you bloody seeing this? It’s...it’s…”

Just to get this straight, her pirate husband, the eloquent speaker in their relationship, was speechless. Well they were in trouble. 

“Yep, well.” Emma shrugged, lips curling with a small sympathetic smile. “Not to freak you out some more but it’s called aging.”

Killian whirled around, face aghast. “I beg your pardon,” he yelped. 

Emma nodded and slapped his hand away to gently cup his chin and inspect his skin -a real challlenge when she still hadn’t put her contacts in and the first thing Killian did in the morning was run to the mirror. 

“Well, what’s the verdict, love?”

The verdict was it was almost nothing, almost if it weren’t for the bits of grey sprinkled around his mouth too. God maybe they should get rid of the mirror for both their sakes. Mostly his sanity. 

Emma dropped a soft kiss on his cheek, finally releasing his chin. “I guess you’re not used to it because in Neverland you guys didn’t grow up or whatever.”

“Quite right.” Killian puffed out his chest a bit before turning to glare at himself. The corners of his mouth deepened with his frown as he impatiently poked his scruff. “Never did this pesky grey see the light of day, I must get rid of it, it’s preposterous!”

She rolled her eyes. “Actually it’s human nature.”

Killian grew silent. Moments passed where she prayed for his thinking face to remain under the surface. No lightbulbs going off, no bright ideas, but of course his stubborn ass reached up to skim the top of the cabinet and growled when his fingers came back empty. “Love where are the scissors?”

Her eyes popped and she seized his arm mid-reach. “Oh no, Killian stop. You’re not cutting your hair.”

“In case you’ve failed to notice, my hair needs remedy.”

Jesus give her strength. 

“It’s fine,” Emma whispered, and stepped forward to cup his cheek. She quickly ducked her head so the understanding widening her eyes was in his line of sight as she smoothed her thumb over his scar. “We’ve been through this.”

“Apparently so,” Killian replied bitterly. “Where are the scissors?”

“Here.” Emma held out her palm to the side and a cloud of white smoke briefly engulfed her palm, poofing the scissors he so desperately thought were his salvation, and revealing her curled fingers around the two blades when it cleared. “And you’re not using them, end of discussion.”

“Swan…”

“I promise you are just as devilishly handsome as when we met,” Emma said, voice tinged with laugther at the prospect that this man with ocean eyes, jet black hair, thick eyebrows, perfectly toned chest and arms, and a grin to send her heart skipping a beat could think he was anything _but_ handsome. What an idiot. 

His expression suddenly shifted, worry replaced by mischief as his hand and hook fell on her hips and roughly gripped her to him. “Tell me more,” he uttered under his breath, a dark smirk curling his lips as he slowly walked them backward, staring at her from under hooded lashes until she hit a wall and this was way too familiar as his salty smell invaded all reasonable thoughts not to fuck against this wall and her hands flew to grasp his shirt. “Well?”

“Nope, you’re vain enough as it is.”

“It’s only fitting, given how kindly the years have treated me.”

“See, you said it yourself. Problem solved.”

“Bloody minx,” he mumbled, breath hot against her skin as his lips traced a path inside her earlobe. She closed her eyes, lips parting in advance for his tongue, and she had to clench her thighs together when he sunk his teeth into her pulse point and sucked in with a sharp inhale. The heat flaring to life in her belly screamed this wasn’t fair and Killian knew it too and he totally still wanted those scissors. 

“So you’re done overreacting now,” Emma breathed. 

He pulled back slightly, thumb and index finger stopping their massage on her dipping flesh. “Alright perhaps I may have gotten a bit-”

“Scared?” Emma smirked. “Yeah, perhaps.”

His face turned serious. “Captain Hook does not get scared. He does not fear, he does not-”

“Cower in the face of his foes, blah blah blah.” Emma gave him a look, the don’t-be-ridiculous-please look, and brushed her hand through his hair. “Yeah I know. You said that last week.”

Guilt flashed across his face and his shoulders sagged under her palms. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. 

Believe it or not, she understood his why. Sure she wasn’t a three-hundred year old pirate whose aging process was put on hold thanks to that nightmarish island, but it made sense he would feel time was running out, like the grey hairs appearing without warning would steal any more quiet moments with her, would never be enough after he chose to sacrifice himself for their enough. For a guy who’d died and come back to life, time was still an evasive bitch. 

“Hey.” Emma tugged on the collar of his shirt, and smiled unapologetically to his apologetic eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, grey’s my favorite color.”

Actually it was yellow and _then_ grey, but whatever helped him get through the day. 

Maybe it was the fact that she’d killed him with the sword herself. Maybe it was the fact that she’d followed him to the Underworld half scared out of her mind when all plans of leaving were impossible, or maybe (probably the biggest maybe) it was the fact that she’d waited her whole life to find the right person to spend the _rest_ of her life with.

Whichever fact won out, one thing was clear: This -the pesky grey hairs Killian hated so much; the faint wrinkles creasing the corners of his mouth; the thick strands slowly losing their color to the years he increased his checks in the mirror; the shadow of disappointment when he realized they wouldn’t stay young forever- was the rest of her life, the one thing she never expected to have. Consistency.

Wasn’t that the ultimate test? After breaking curses, restoring the happy endings, defeating the villains, and traveling through realms, it was to grow old together. Grow grey together. Have Killian panic at every inevitable second of it. Another assurance after the ring and the vows and the two proposals, another piece of evidence that he was here and growing grey with her here.

Killian rubbed his nose against hers. “Whilst black is mine,” he countered. 

“I know for a fact it’s blue.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Scissors, if you please.” He held his palm out and wiggled his fingers at her. 

“Bye!” Emma ducked under his arm and sprinted into the bedroom. Killian was hot on her heels and she barely made it to the nightstand when his chest collided with her back, arms trapping her waist. She tried to squirm her way out, but Killian only tightened his arms in response and stumbled forward with her. Their feet tangled together and the giggles bursting from her mouth momentarily startled her, causing her to trip over one of her abandoned slippers and fall on the bed. 

Killian moved to grab her but she rolled away just in time, stump landing on the space next to her as she wrinkled her nose and disappeared in a cloud of white. 

Somehow it was always time. 

Even when his sole purpose was to kill Gold, time had mattered. He’d told her once he’d wasted so much time in Neverland, years of his life that’d amounted to nothing, and now he couldn’t afford to waste any more. 

Not when time was so precious.

Not when time was them. 


	4. "Sharing is for losers."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who hogs the blanket?"

**Chapter 4: "Sharing is for losers."**

Darkness greeted him for the third time tonight, along with the insistent rattling on the window, all too familiar to the howling wind adding to the tottery waters when he and Liam had been just lads.

Goosebumps rose to life on his empty arms, a fierce chatter richocheting through his teeth as another blast of wintry air swept through the room and shuddered his body. Killian glanced at the window, vainly in search for a crack in the pane or perhaps Emma had forgotten to close it properly? 

Due to their earlier quarrel empty arms were right. He’d apologized immediately after, but Emma had refused to actknowledge it and so they’d fallen to bed on opposite sides. 

Now he wished to bury the hatchet, and longed for her warmth. Longed for her.

He settled his good hand on her waist, and smoothed his palm over the soft fabric serving as a cover. He pressed his thumb through the blanket, quite certain the soft skin residing there hummed to life at his gentle, if a bit insistent, circles. “Emma,” Killian whispered first, as any gentleman should, before shaking her waist. 

“Hm?” How odd. Usually his Swan demanded a lot more coaxing -all of which he was happy to provide with his hands, his words, or _his mouth_ as was their favorite method-to join him in wakefulness. Although according to the sitting box with glowing red demonic eyes, the sunrise evaded them still.

“Love.”

Emma scrunched her nose and further buried it into her pillow. His gaze softened to her mercy before a chilly breeze hit his back and sent tremors across his shoulders and down his arms. He too wished to be as oblivious to the weather as she was, and so knocked his stump lightly on her hip. 

“I’m afraid we’ve come at an impasse, darling.”

A low groan emitted from her throat and Killian was drawn forward with a tender smile inching across his lips as she mumbled incoherently and curled her knees closer to her chest. Her arse brushed against his thigh, proving to be a temptation for the hardness in his boxers pushing to be freed, and my was he not opposed but they truly did need to purchase more blankets. 

Emma shifted onto her side and pulled the blanket higher to her chin. “Why are you speaking smart right now, let me sleep, go to sleep.”

Well he would if it weren’t for the intense drop in temperature Storybrooke had undergone thanks to the Arendelle Queen’s surprise arrival. Not that he or Emma minded, having welcomed her return with open arms, but if she could temper those powers it’d be wonderful. 

Killian sighed and closed his eyes, regret already grimacing his lips. “Swan,” he said again, albeit more firmly. 

“Mm?”

“You’ve taken all the blanket.”

“So what,” Emma snapped, startling him into suspicion when she all but yelled the words out, the hint of impatience in her voice narrowing his eyes and tilting his head. 

It would appear she remained to be vexed, and rightfully so, but a shiver ran up his spine and harshly reminding him he needn’t brave the night with such cold.

She had all the permission in the realms to be vexed at him tomorrow. 

“So I’m rather freezing, darling, perhaps you might consider sharing.”

Emma shook her head. “Sharing is for losers.”

"Oh come sweetheart. I only suggest a small part. Half, if you’d like to get technical.”

“No,” she replied matter-of-factly. 

“Aye.” Killian frowned and pulled slightly on the hem of the blanket. Emma growled and arched away from him, digging her chin into his knuckles. “ _Aye._ ”

Her entire body visibly tensed. “Noooooooo-”

“I believe it’s quite fair,” he said, tugging just that bit rougher on the blanket, and alright this was bloody ridiculous, particularly as her eyes popped open -devoid of any slumber clinging to them, might he add-and her chin acted as an unwielding stone. 

“Killian, what are you-”

“Bloody hell woman, release your grip!”

“You said you didn’t want it!”

Killian followed Emma as she rolled away, glare disappearing into the white bedding as he searched for the one spot Emma had forgotten to tuck in between her legs or calves, and under her chin or wrapped tightly against her crossed arms as though she were the beautiful monarch trapped in her cocoon and not simply a stubborn lass. 

Ah yes. His eyes caught the small patch of creamy skin peeking out from the back, near her lingerie, and he quickly grasped the blanket. 

"And it appears I’ve had a change (tug) of (harder tug) heart! (extremely hard tug)” Killian’s fingers slipped and he collapsed on his back with a heavy sigh. Her giggle enticed him to lift his head, all too triumph for his liking, and he ignored the upwards twitch on his lips to find her propped up on her elbow, cheek on her shoulder, blanket pooled at her waist, and his lazy smirk teasing her gaze. 

For a moment he was mesmerized by the moonlight casting her in an ethereal glow as though she were heaven itself, _his_ better place herself, and all previous annoyance broke at the seams when he stared into the emerald eyes as deep as the forest they’d once ventured through. 

“Told you you were gonna want it. It’s cold, huh?” 

“You mean to admit this was retaliation?”

Emma shrugged, admitting to nothing , and scooted forward to throw one side of the blanket over his waist before throwing her own arm over as well and settling into his side. Killian continued at odds, but the warmth curling into him spurred him into action, quickly turning on his side to bury his face into silky sunshine and wasting no time in inhaling the dizzying scent of vanilla shampoo as he nosed through her strands and slowly wrapped his palm around the back of her neck.

“Don’t get cocky again,” she murmured, planting a soft warning on his nipple and smiling into his skin.

Killian closed his eyes, lips turning to seek her forehead and press his own lingering kiss there. “Lesson learned indeed,” he whispered, finally at peace with the cold. 

“I figured.”

In the early hours of dawn, coerced awake by the sunrise, was when he took note of the messages on Emma’s talking phone. 

**_Emma -Hey, can you do me a favor? (11:32 PM_** )

_Elsa-Of course, what is it you need?(11:33 PM)_

_Elsa-So did it work? (6:21 AM)_

Killian smiled, chanced a glance at his sleeping Swan over his shoulder, and wrote:

**_Emma- Aye, it worked. (6:23 AM)_ **

Bested again. But if this was how Emma’s revenge ended, well, he’d be willing to spark her ire a little more often. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do genuinely believe it's Emma for this one, despite the fictional argument. Killian spent years learning how to bear the cold, what with being a slave first, and then having to endure the cold as a captain, and plus his exposed chest in winter/summer/spring/fall is another clue. Emma's baby blanket was something she held onto, clung to as she grew up, and I imagine having to get through the cold while on the streets called for having to take out that blanket and get used to it. Every time we saw her show the blanket in an episode she was fond of it, so yeah, there's my little analysis. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. "With you I just can't help it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What would be their theme song?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in chapter 1, Omnia had commented always imagining Killian singing 'Love song' by the cure (Really nice song, by the way) and even though this one isn't him singing along to it, maybe it comes close enough?

**Chapter 5: "With you I just can't help it."**

"Love I have a confession to make."

"It's okay, babe, I already knew you had my phone."

Emma spun on her heel, ends of her hair swinging behind her as she plopped on the edge of the bed and glanced at Killian. 

He crossed the short distance between them, falling next to her with far more grace than she displayed -though to be fair, he had years of Navy under his belt, years of getting his act together and learning how to walk or should she say saunter with elegancy while she had years of running to the dining table before the big kids swiped food off her plate. 

Emma cast a meaningful look at the sleeve of his shirt and leaned back on her elbows when the bed dipped with his weight, tilting her head when that smirk flickered across his lips. Now what was he hiding?

“Don’t be angry, love.”

“We’re married." And who knows how many times she’d scolded him on the very real, very we-said-our-vows-and-freaking-check-your-ring-finger fact, but she cupped his cheek anyway. “Which basically means sharing everything,” Emma whispered, slowly melting under the gaze growing tender against her fingers. 

After a long moment, Killian arched an eyebrow. “Including something as trivial as your talking device?” He pulled said ‘talking device’ from his sleeve and playfully wiggled it. Emma just rolled her eyes and lightly bumped her forehead against his. 

“ _Phone_ ,” she said and his answering smirk revealed he did it on purpose because at this point in their relationship she’d exhausted what each modern technology was or did.

And okay, maybe she secretly liked his pretend cluelessness, maybe it reminded her of when he first appeared at the loft dressed head to toe in modern clothing, when she first opened the door for their _first_ date and it was obvious he intended to stay. 

He intended to adjust. 

He intended to be part of something. _Them._

Emma shrugged and pulled away. “You tell me. After all you’re the one who took it.”

“For surprise purposes of course!” She wasn't buying his love for the dramatic, but her usually quick reflexes weren’t quick enough to bite down on the snort in time. 

Emma dropped backwards on the bed, and his patient smile followed her as she buried her face into the soft sheet and stayed silent for one, two, three beats. “What surprise?” Emma finally asked even though she had a feeling. 

Ever since Henry had taught Killian how to search and download songs, her phone tended to randomly disappear for a few minutes and then reappear with a longer playlist. The culprit would be grinning from ear to ear and kissing her hair _Nonsense dear, I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re insinuating, but it’s a nice song, eh?_ and yeah, turned out it always was. 

Killian held up a finger and pressed something on her phone. He leaned forward to swipe the hair off her shoulder and Emma caught his hook at the same time a slightly upbeat tune filled the room. A soft smile stretched across his lips and she wrapped her fingers around the curvy metal, her _what are you doing but okay I trust you look_ sticking to her face. 

“Listen, Swan.” 

He carefully set the phone upside down between them and lay back. A contentment they were both better acquainted with rose and lowered his chest, and taking a moment to stare at the expression free of hurt, of worry, of villains threatening their happiness or Hope paining him when she threw herself into her first steps and knocked face-first into a chair, was called for until he loudly cleared his throat. 

“I’m listening, I’m listening!” Emma closed her eyes and pulled the hook to rest on her shoulder. Her cheek dipped against the cool metal meeting skin, and unlike Killian it wasn’t warm, but it was familiar and hers. He repeated her name and she nodded again. “I’m listening.”

… _.Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again…._

_……………...Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again……_

_..Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again…._

_…..Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again…._

_However far away, I will always love you….._

_…..However long I stay, I will always love you…._

_…However far away……_

“Swan?”

“Mm?”

“Whenever I find myself alone with you, I’m free once more.” Emma’s eyes popped open, immediately locking with blue. She stared at him, half expecting a storm swirling in his depths, half waiting for the shadows to darken his gaze. For the old Underworld nightmares to rise underneath his eyes, and for the demons of his past to cling and twist everything into a fleeting lie. 

But it never came. 

Nothing screamed or begged him to realize he wasn’t worth it, nothing tried to steal his sleep or convince him he didn’t deserve his happy ending. Not even as she gave him a tender, loving, and I _t’s true, Killian, believe it_ smile and curled into his side and reached to stroke the lone strands away from his forehead and brushed her thumb over his scar, fingers caressing the cheekbone. 

“You are,” Emma whispered, nodding. “Of the man you used to be.” Of the constant survivor. 

“Indeed.” Killian caught her fingers, enclosing his palm around them and leaving each fingertip with a featherlight kiss that warmed her chest, and like the romantic pirate he was, closed his eyes and reverently brushed his lips across her knuckles. 

Tears blurred her vision of the this, the here and now, and she tried laughing off the many Used to Be’s that’d been her life. Killian had gone through enough of them and she’d gone through her own unlucky share.

The girl in the photograph, smiling back at Neal with no walls, with a high ponytail that was supposed to give out a semi-confident look, bright red lips that were supposed to hide her insecure nature by default, glasses just another thing she was afraid to lose, and thinking that cheap pie and living off other people’s wallets and falling in love in between crappy hotel rooms and even crappier diners was it and it wasn’t going to get any better than this. 

If she could see that girl now, Emma would take her by the shoulders and ignore whatever protests and curses were shooting out her mouth as she hugged her tightly and told her one day she was going to be loved. One day she was going to be wanted and it was gonna overwhelm the fuck out of her. 

One day erasing the star on her wrist and running away from Ingrid and being abandoned by Neal was just going to be one part of her life, was pretty soon gonna belong to a different Emma, an Emma she was gonna try to bury so deep in the next eleven years that she almost almost believed she was dead. But no. 

“You know I used to be someone else.”

“A different Emma, darling?”

“Yeah, different.” Emma sent him a small smile and sighed heavily, all those disappointments momentarily crushing her. “She was young, still broken but less broken than when you met me, and funny -at least I think I was funny.”

“I don’t doubt you were, my dear,” Killian chuckled. 

“And then I screwed up, everything in my life went to hell, and somehow being that carefree girl just wasn’t me anymore. Couldn’t be me, I guess. But the thing is…” Emma tilted her chin on his shoulder; amusement danced in her eyes and a secret grin creeped across her lips as she shook her head. “With you I just can’t help it.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile, and he bowed his head slightly. “Tis my honor, for I love you, Emma Swan.” Killian’s palm cupped the back of her head, fingers gently digging into her hair and guiding her forehead to his lips. “ Fortunately my vow includes loving all versions of you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” Emma murmured, delivering a soft kiss to his jaw before nosing into the crook of his neck. 

“Happy third anniversary, darling.”

Emma gasped and slapped his chest as she shot up straight. “Dammit I was gonna say it first!”

Killian arched an eyebrow, slowly prying his hook away from her tight grip and wrapping his arm around her waist to tug her closer, until she was almost splayed out on top of him but nope, no complains there. “Well I’m yet to kiss you first,” he quipped, eyes flicking from her lips to her face and back to her lips again. 

“In that case…” Emma grinned and held her mouth above his. “don’t mind if I do, Captain.”


	6. "Now follow my lead, dear."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who is most likely to ask the other to dance with them?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this came out a little longer than expected but I can't say I regret it because I'm in love with the outcome. Also, I might be disappearing for a few days just to try to get this 4-chapter story I've been meaning to get done, actually DONE because it's been forever and it's just sitting in my Google Docs expectantly. Pushing that aside, I would like to know what you guys would like to read next:
> 
> -Who drives and who rides shotgun?  
> -Who would sing their child back to sleep?  
> -Who would enter them both into a talent show?  
> -Who is most likely to cry over a sad book or movie?
> 
> Have fun picking!

**Chapter 6: "Now follow my lead, dear."**

Emma dropped her head on his shoulder, and sighed softly, “I’m bored, sailor.”

Killian shifted his arm and Emma shifted with him, tucking herself further against his side as he wrapped his arm around the back of her neck and settled his lips on her hair. _Perfect_. “Shall we do something then?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she tipped back her head to look at him questionably. “Like what?” 

Because her brain wasn’t supplying any ideas, blanking on anything except for how quiet the house was, so quiet the hum of the refrigerator and occasional crackle of the lit fireplace the only intruder.

She didn’t miss the similarity to her former Boston apartment, how the humming refrigerator used to fill her stomach with dread because of the empty air, how empty she was, but that was where the similarity stopped. Instead of Boston’s skyline, the window displayed the crisp wind blowing the leaves off the ground, the dead trees lining the sidewalk, and the sun high in the sky betraying how wear-more-than-a-leather-jacket it actually was. 

Days like this were rare, and David giving them both the day off not helping maintain the schedule Killian had smartly formed and Emma desperately followed -of course she’d never admit it but his organizational skills were a lifesaver, and she didn’t even mean it as a joke this time, she was living by it.

Especially when half of the living room floor was littered with Leia’s barbie doll collection; Charles had abandoned his book on the dining table; and Hope had forgotten to drop the cereal bowls in the sink. Seemed their kids had inherited Emma’s messiness. Oops. 

Luckily there were still hours to go before Hope, Leia, and Charles returned from school. Plus Henry was crashing at Regina’s tonight.

“Waltzs.” Or Netflix. She glanced at Killian. Oh he was serious. 

Emma shrugged. “Sorry, I thought that was only something we do when we need to calm down.”

Killian shook his head and turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. Her lips twisted, trying to figure out his thoughts as his arm moved from her neck to rest around her shoulders. “Whatever gave you that idea, Swan?”

“The fact that everytime I’m freaking out, you ask me to dance,” Emma deadpanned.

“Hm.” Mischief danced in his eyes, fingers slowly stroking the stubble coating his chin. “Inform me then: are you in a stage of alarm right now?”

She narrowed her gaze but stayed planted on the sofa cushion. “No…”

“Then your theory is mistaken.” Killian jumped to his feet and spun around with an already outstretched hand. “Up, up, up, sweetheart.” He took her fingers and pulled her flush against his chest; giggle getting muffled by his shoulder as his arm encircled her waist and their hands joined instinctively. 

He started swaying slightly and she pressed her hips to his, going along to his soft steps and finally curling her palm around the nape of his neck. It gave her the perfect excuse to lightly stroke his locks, threading her fingers through them again and again. Combined with his body heat and scruff brushing her cheek and his warm breath hitting her ear Emma’s eyes fell closed. 

“Wait.”

_“Wait.” He didn’t wait, despite her reluctant feet almost jumping after him. He gently led her to the dance floor with lips pressed together in an assuring smile, tall stance and slightly puffed up chest exuherebating confidence as he gazed at the gliding dancers with purpose._

_Ugh, these shoes were_ killing _her. Then again guessing her right shoe size was the least of their worries right now._

_Emma narrowed her eyes at Killian, trying to mask how warm his hand was even through the glove, like seriously. “Are you saying you know how to do whatever this is?”_

_Killian turned and stepped forward to place his fake hand on her waist and set her hand on his shoulder. Her palm spread over the fabric without permission, finding steady ground. Why he had to step even closer, Emma didn’t know since they were already close enough for his bright blue eyes to momentarily chase away the discomfort the corset was making on her spleen._

_“It’s called a Waltz.” Pulling her hand out to the side, he slowly entwined his fingers with hers. “There’s only one rule.”_

_Her eyes flicked to his lips, and flicked back to his eyes just in time._

_“Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”_

“If I’m wrong, what’s actually the reason?”

“Perhaps I simply enjoy holding you, love,”Killian whispered, slowly brushing his nose across her ear, running it down her cheek, and along her parted lips just to meet her nose. A smile broke across her face and she stared at him with his eyes closed, oblivious to the adoration in her gaze as she rubbed their noses. His arm tightened. “Chest close to mine, Swan. To be a breath away from her lips, and have your scent envelope me.”

Her smile shifted into a smirk. “That or maybe because I always let you lead.”

“Allow me to do so means you trust me, Emma.”

“Hey.”

_“Hey.” Emma waved a hand, shoulders rigid as she kept one foot past the threshold of his quarters and the other back, in case it turned out this wasn’t a good idea, in case it was too soon and a quick escape was called for. Killian threw his legs over the side of the bunk, concern shining in his ocean eyes per moonlight glow hitting his back and casting her in shadow -it was actually appropriate._

_She seemed to be in the shadow about a lot of things these days._

_“Swan,” he finally said, cracking the nerves tainting the air but not cracking her nerves._

_Emma bit her lip and he scratched behind his ear for a moment, and why the hell did this feel strangely like high school? Or a high school movie, because god knows her high school experience had been far from high school musical._

_This was stupid, she wasn’t some girl afraid to talk to her crush, but her hands continued wringling almost painfully, stretching out the fingers. He barely got his ship back yesterday, and sure she’d been here before on their rescue mission in Neverland, but things were different since the last time she’d set foot in here. Things were… well, what she’d told Henry. Together._

_They were together._

_“I figured you’d prefer to be with August, see if he’s alright.” Seriously? Yeah, but no. August was her friend but Killian was...well, they were together. He reached her in one stride, questioning gaze searching hers, palm sliding against hers and hook tugging her in by the wrist._

_Emma nodded, shoulders sagging under her coat when she sighed. “I did go check on him, and we ended up finding out where the author is, freeing him too, but he escaped…”_

_They’d lost the author._

_She’d lost her parents._

_Regina had lost her cover with the villains._

_And in short, it had all gone to hell._

_Honestly when she ran up the steps and roamed around the deck and pulled open the wooden door leading into the cabins, she had no idea why she was here. She had no idea what she really wanted was another hug. Just his arms letting her fall apart without judgement._

_Her lowered lip quivered, and he ducked his gaze in her eyeline so she wouldn’t avoid him as she planned. He cupped her cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?”_

_“I don’t want to go back to the loft,” Emma said softly. Back to her parents, their lies, the disappointment._

_“Because Snow White and the prince are there.”_

_Now came the hard part. Emma shuffled on her feet and glanced at him warily. “Just...do you think I could stay with you tonight?”_

_Killian winced, but his stepping closer and brushing his lips across her forehead gave away his crumbling resolve. “I’m not so sure your parents would approve, Swan.”_

_“Good thing I don’t care,” she replied coldly._

_“Emma,” Killian sighed._

_She shook her head and rolled her eyes, anger and impatience at everything but him flaring to life in her fists. “You know what I can go get a room at Granny’s, forget about-”_

_“No, no, no.” He caught her arm mid-turn, and stepped closer, covering her shaking knuckles with his palm. Her eyes met his and suddenly the fight zapped out of her, a single tear trailing down her cheek in its wake. Great. Wasn’t she done crying? “How about we waltz?”_

_“What?” Her head snapped up. His face betrayed, well, his seriousness. “Wait, you’re serious?”_

_“Quite serious.”_

_Emma shook her head, a thousand protests rising to the tip of her tongue almost as fast as the smile twitching her lips. “There’s not enough room.”_

_“Move slowly then.”_

_They both did as they pressed their chests together. His arm slipped around her waist while hers slid around his neck, fingers digging into the locks at the nape and splaying higher and higher until she was almost cupping his head and tilting his forehead into hers. The corner of his mouth quirked against the side of her nose, and for a moment, as he gently swayed her, his warmth and faint smell of rum and salt clinging to his breath and to leather helped smoothen the creases between her eyebrows and caused her pounding heart to pound for another reason._

_“And there’s no music.”_

_A pathetic excuse, but his lips parting against her hair and cheek dipping against the top of her head didn’t leave much room for better ideas. She urged up on tiptoes, using his hook as leverage to slide her feet on top of his, and when he didn’t stumble, she sighed and turned her face into the crook of his neck._

_“Humming is entirely allowed, love.”_

_Emma smiled. “You just have an answer for everything, don’t you?”_

_“And you an excuse,” he quipped and nudged her hair. “Now follow my lead, dear.”_

_She pulled back, grin threatening to break across her face as she looked at him curiously. “How come I always have to follow yours?”_

_“Simple.” Killian kissed her nose. “I’m the partner who always knows what he’s doing.”_

_Maybe she should have protested, gotten into a semi-heated argument just for the sake that she was Emma and everyone expected her to argue, he expected her to argue, and she expected herself to argue. Make this a little harder for him and for herself because she was who she was and welcoming him wasn’t something she just_ did. 

_“Okay,” Emma whispered, closing her eyes and settling her cheek against his shoulder._

_Sweeping kisses on her cheek, forehead, the corner of her mouth, and her hair, he never bumped into the table or his bunk. She welcomed the love that hadn’t lied to her, and stayed silent as he led her around his quarters._

_The tears didn’t make it past gathering in her eyes, and for those few minutes, another person letting her down, another person not believing in her, was pushed aside as she slid back to the floor and he lifted their hand and hook over their heads to spin her._

_For those few minutes, She. Let him. Lead._

“Of course I trust you.”

“For the remainder of our days, tell me, beloved, will you let me lead you?” he asked, swaying them in a slow circle. 

“Of course I trust you,” was all she breathed as she cupped his face.

_She cupped his face. “I’m sorry it took so long,” she said, thumbs searching for the cuts and bruises that weren’t there, wide eyes sweeping across the blue gaze silently telling her to stop, to calm down and breathe. But she couldn’t calm down, not when her fingers brushed the deep gash on the crown of his head and he flinched slightly, not when her palm drifted to the back of his neck and came back smeered red. “You’re bleeding, are you okay? Sorry, stupid question-”_

_“Swan.”_

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”_

_“Swan.”_

_“I know I didn’t make it easy for you to tell me the truth-”_

_“Swan.”_

_“They did hurt you. Here, let me see, I can heal it, just-”_

_“Emma.”_

_She froze, still breathing heavily, and the frustrated moisture in her eyes making his soft smile blurry._

_The glowing in her palm slowly faded with each second they stood there, staring at each other, and when he turned and pressed a kiss to her bright, white light skin, it disappeared and left his lips caressing her regular hue. He looked at her, eyebrows raised with their assurance because he was okay, he was alive, and her_ fiance _wasn’t a pile of ash in Neverland. One more minute and he would have been...she shuddered and finally dropped her hand._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered._

_She’d almost lost him. Again._

_“You already said that, darling,” Killian said softly._

_“I know, but I am sorry, Killian.” Sorry she hadn’t made it easier for him to trust her, to stay, to try. Instead she’d yelled and stomped back upstairs to their room like a little girl, realizing her mistake when she was forced to turn off the lights meant to guide him home._

_Not that he wasn’t wrong. Looks like they were both just a little wrong._

_“As am I,” KIllian sighed, and when he took a step forward, Emma crashed into him, the force of it swaying them side to side as his arms wrapped around her back and hers wrapped around his waist. She buried her face into the crook of his neck as his buried in her hair, and she pushed the back of his head tightly against her shoulder, swallowing thickly and more tears stinging her closed eyes._

_Her parents were officially asleep, but he was here._

_“Babe I-”_

_He shook his head, and pulled back to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “No more apologies, aye?”_

_Emma nodded, tossing away any disagreement as she sagged in his arms again. “Wanna tell me what happened?” she murmured against his heart, one hand gripping the lapel of his coat while the other curled around his forearm. He closed his eyes and brought his forehead to hers._

_“I think I’d like to make you my wife.”_

_She laughed, the sound slick with relieved tears. “Yeah, guess that makes two of us.”_

_Henry and Regina stood at the foot of her parents bed, Evil Queen 2.0 had won, and she was an orphan again. But as Killian softly swayed her around the loft, Emma smiled for the first time in days._

“I love you.”

A smile broke under her thumbs. “As do I,” he said before suddenly dipping her and she shrieked, scrambling to wrap her arms around his neck while he pressed his palm firmly into her back, the other hand tightening on her waist. “Trust me, Swan.”

Emma scoffed. “I just said I-” Killian cut her off with a kiss, quickly ducking his head and slipping his tongue into her mouth. 

“Nice method you got going there.”

“I take it you approve?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, pirate.”

“As you wish.”


End file.
